“We must work to ensure that Jerusalem’s future is built in the spirit of “Yeru-Shalom,” a legacy of peace.”
Menachem Forman
In framing a view of Jerusalem’s future, we would do well to draw upon our divine heritage. Isaiah’s famed vision of Jerusalem at the End of Days, for example, was that “instruction shall come forth from Zion, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem – nation shall not take up sword against nation; they shall never again know war”.
Why not bring that prophecy to fruition by turning Jerusalem into a place worthy of her name: a city of peace? Wouldn’t it be wise to launch an offensive aimed at transforming Jerusalem into the capital of the world? Surely this would be a way of showing our city far greater respect and showering it with far more love.
The key must be to raise Jerusalem above the arena of national power games and squabbles over the symbols and tools of sovereignty. Wars for control of territory are commonplace in our world. But Israel’s victories in the War of Independence and the Six-Day War have accorded it a power and opportunity that are unique: to declare a place on earth – the Old City of Jerusalem – ex-territorial.
Jewish tradition contains many expressions of the idea that Jerusalem is not confined by the bounds of common territoriality. The Midrash, for example, cites it as the place from which Jacob’s Ladder connected earth with heaven. And the Gemarah (Baba Batra 75) tells us that Jerusalem is named after God and is the place where the commemoration of God’s name – His essence and intent – must be expressed throughout history.
If the purpose of Zionism is to transform the sublime visions of our heritage into reality here on earth, wouldn’t its true fulfillment be the realization of Isaiah’s vision here in this temporal city? Shouldn’t our purpose be to draw to Jerusalem the most spiritual and humanist of institutions? Isn’t it only fitting that Jerusalem be the seat of the U.N.’s cultural bodies, human rights organizations, scholarly forums and workshops of intellectual endeavor? And finally, isn’t it only proper that Jerusalem be the place where members of all faiths convene to renounce their breeding of prejudice, hostility and war, and work to fashion world peace? We do Jerusalem no honor if we insist that it be to us what Belgrade is to Yugoslavia. Jerusalem deserves to be more: a realization of our potential to rise above the narrow sense of nationalism.
This is not a utopian vision appropriate only to the End of Days. Meetings and discussions are already in progress among Jews, Muslims and Christians with the aim of making Jerusalem into the capital of peace and home of a U.N. for all religions. They are drawn together by the hope of converting a problem on which no side can afford to concede – following the traditional model of negotiations as give-and-take, as in “land for peace” – into a solution that leaves all sides feeling they have gained: a win-win outcome.
For Israel this proposal will mean elevating Jerusalem from the capital of a small country in the Levant to the capital of the world. No less important in this idea would be Jerusalem’s role as a bridge between the Muslim world and the West to help defuse tensions that spread well beyond the Middle East. Both the United States and Europe can make meaningful contributions in this sphere. The Pope has repeatedly expressed his desire to have the start of the new millennium mark the end of the historical conflict between Christianity, Judaism and Islam, and other Christian denominations will be able to endorse the plan on similar grounds.
This is why contacts about making Jerusalem into the capital of peace have reached and will go on reaching the highest echelons in Jerusalem, Gaza, Washington, Brussels, Rome and elsewhere. We must work to ensure that Jerusalem’s future is built in the spirit of “yeru-shalom,” a legacy of peace.
A True Story
Faisal Al-Khteeb
JERUSALEM – As a Palestinian Arab from Hizme, a village located between Jerusalem and Ramallah, my life growing up was very different to that of the Jewish children who lived nearby. Rather than playing on the streets, I was listening to stories about the homeland – Palestine – hearing reports of the actions committed by the Israeli army, and how it took away the rights of my people. We heard these stories in our homes, in coffee shops, on the streets. Even our wedding songs were about resistance to the occupation.
Of course, there are many ways to resist the occupation – the more problematic ones entail violence. During the first Intifada when I was 15, many of the youth around me took part in peaceful forms of resistance. I, however, decided to use force. At that time I believed that for my freedom, every Jewish person – soldier or civilian, man or woman, young or old – ought to be killed. One day I tried to take a person’s life. I did not know him. I just knew that he was Jewish, and I saw every Jew as a target. At the time I was just a child and did not understand anything about politics, or about the Arab-Israeli conflict. I wasn’t aware of the nuances of the conflict or the impact of violence on my own society.
I was arrested for my violent crime in 1987 and sent to prison for 12 years. In those days it seemed like nobody spoke about peace. Both sides only spoke about violence and the need to perpetuate it – either through armed uprisings or by continuing the occupation.
In prison, some of my fellow inmates suggested I go to the prison library. It was a big library. I began reading politics, literature, and poetry, and familiarised myself with stories from around the world. Interested in the occupation and ways of resistance, I read about Rajiv Gandhi and Martin Luther King – individuals who inspired me and gave me hope. I regretted not reading or hearing about them prior to my arrest because I learned from their experiences that violence only leads to more violence. I also used my time in prison to read about Judaism and Christianity, and of course about Islam. I learned about the religious history of the land, the significance of the legacy of Abraham and Isaac and the shared roots of Jews and Muslims. I realised that we both live in one of the holiest places and that our languages are similar.
Ninety-ninety-one brought the Madrid peace conference and the dreams of Palestinians seemed close enough to touch – an independent state in which we might carve out our own destiny. For the first time an international process gave me hope that Palestinian life can be lived in peace and dignity. Almost 20 years have passed. With them have come disappointments small and large – but mainly a legacy of bitterness.
Yet the solutions to the conflict and the attendant dangers should we not resolve it, have not changed. In my eyes, a continuation of the current status quo will only radicalise the Palestinian people and contribute to the demise of Israel as a Jewish and largely democratic state. Meanwhile the situation of Palestinians living within Israel appears to be deteriorating and with it Israel’s stated values, corrupted and twisted by the occupation.
Although mutual anger runs deep, and resentment is ever-present, the only possible outcome remains peace, creating a bright and dignified future for the two peoples. For the Palestinians, using violence will only delegitimise our cause, undermine the rule of law in Palestinian society and push away international support – necessary elements for achieving an independent state.
As former UN Special Coordinator in the Occupied Territories Terje Roed Larsen once said “either the two peoples will succeed together or will crash together. For better or for worse…you are right next to each other and there is no chance of a victory for one side at the expense of the other”.
We live on the same land. At the most basic level we drink the same water, be it in Ramallah or in Tel Aviv. We pray to the same God, be it in Netanya or Jenin. Our only hope will be to share this land – not necessarily as friends, as it is far too late for that, but no longer as enemies. Simply, as two states, side by side, providing a better future for our children.
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* Faisal Khteeb is married with four children: three daughters and a son, between the ages of 8 and 1. This article was written for the Common Ground News Service (CGNews).
Source: Common Ground News Service (CGNews), 27 May 2010, http://www.commongroundnews.org
Copyright permission is granted for publication.
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My visit to Yad Vashem
Faisal Al-Khteeb
JERUSALEM – I was a prisoner for a period of 12 years in Israeli jails for committing an act of violence. I spent those years reading and learning about the region. Many of the books I read and the films I watched dealt with the Holocaust and the genocide against Jews in Nazi Germany. Today, most nations throughout the world sympathise with the extreme suffering of the Jewish people. However, in the Middle East there are many Arabs in general and Palestinians in particular, who express doubts about the number of victims cited or the nature of the Holocaust.
Last month I took part in an Israeli-Palestinian visit to Yad Vashem – the Holocaust museum in Israel. The aim of the visit was to familiarise young Palestinians with the narrative of “the Other” – a narrative which, under the shadow of the Occupation, is often ignored. This may not have been the first time I heard about the Holocaust as a historical event, but it was the first time that I came face-to-face with the personal stories.
During the visit, our guide, Mr. Yacov Yaniv told his own personal story – how he lost most of his family members and how he wished, when he was a child, that he had a grandfather so he could sit on his lap and play with his beard like other children. We also listened to a story by a woman called Ruth, who lived through that period and witnessed first-hand how her father was abducted, the family left unclear about his fate. At the time she tried to write a letter to her father, but as she was too young to write, she drew pictures of their house and garden, and placed the picture letter in the mailbox in front of their house, hoping her father would return. Sadly her father never returned and she later found out that he was one of those consumed by the fires of Nazi furnaces. She still has the letter today.
More than anything the touching stories and lasting trauma of the Holocaust during my visit made it clear to me that Palestinians and Israelis must strive to achieve peace as soon as possible. Enough blood-letting, enough suffering. Hounded by our past, we should strive towards a better future. There are currently too many prisoners or hostages on either side whose fate remains unknown. Should we wait, once again, for a Palestinian or Israeli child’s letter, searching for his or her father or family? As the children of Abraham we do not want our children to suffer like Ruth.
The Israeli and Palestinian governments should work jointly to create programmes that teach both sides about the Nakba and provide courses and visits to Yad Vashem. Only by hearing the personal stories of “the Other” can we begin to acknowledge their suffering, their place in history, their value as human beings who are no different than us. Our hearts are big enough to accommodate more than one nation, one history and one mode of suffering.
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* Faisal al-Khteeb is married with four children: three daughters and a son, between the ages of 8 and 1. This article was written for the Common Ground News Service (CGNews).
Source: Common Ground News Service (CGNews), 16 September 2010,
http://www.commongroundnews.org
Copyright permission is granted for publication.